christian s christmas conundrum€¦ · the realization that it was finally christmas day had not...
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Christian’s Christmas Conundrum
A Holiday Story by
Bryan W. Dull
Christmas Day
“This angel will not go away in this lifetime,” a girl
said.
Christian’s eyes shifted around in his sockets as he
dared to remain in an interesting dream that he knew he
would lose the memory of when he woke up. White light
entered through his eye lids as he fought between
remaining asleep and waking up. He started leaning
towards the latter since it was the day he had been looking
forward to for the past month, ever since his mother teased
him with wrapped gifts from family members that she took
upon herself to put under the tree.
The tree this year was lit with white lights instead of
the colored lights Christian was accustomed to. His mother,
Sarah, wanted to do something different this year,
something to “mix things up”; those were her words, not
his. Christian hated this year’s holiday decorations. He
thought they were boring, and there was nothing but a room
full of regular lights. Christian’s mentality was that there
was enough white light made by the lamps, so why did
there need to be more white lights?
He opened his eyes fully and looked above at the
imperfections in the ceiling. When he couldn’t sleep, he
would just stare and count the creases. He never settled on
a number though; he fell asleep before he could finish.
Christian wanted to know but it was never the highest of
priorities for him; not like the time he counted how many
licks it actually took to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
If you ask Christian, the number is 6,562.
Yes. He counted one night at his aunt’s house as his
cousins slept.
The realization that it was finally Christmas day had
not sunk in quite yet. The room was silent; so silent that
Christian could hear the snowflakes hitting the window,
those huge white snowflakes that he had grown attached to
since his parents moved to Norton, Ohio five years ago.
Home was a split level house at the abrupt end of a
street. At times Christian felt like no one else was around
for miles, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. He
consistently had to worry about the blonde girl down the
street coming over to play. “She’s cute, at least for a girl,”
Christian thought, but was a bit bossy though; a real Bossy-
McGee as his dad would put it.
The blonde girl down the street, Christina, thought
that Christian liked her because of her pretty blonde hair
and because her name was like his. That and because she
could boss him around to do things like play dolls or house
when she wanted. Normally Christian wouldn’t fathom
doing what a girl told him, but there was not many kids in
his neighborhood and he needed to keep all the friends he
could, especially now.
The heater kicked in and the gust of warmth
covered Christian’s bed and face, waking him up even
more. He hopped out of bed and his feet touched the cold
hardwood floor that ran throughout the entire upstairs.
Adults would typically insist on their kids at least wearing
socks throughout the house when the floor was cold, but
not Christian’s parents. They knew better than to try
convincing him or even to argue because they knew he
loved the feel of it on his feet and when his feet got too
cold he would put on his socks on in time, but he would be
the first to take them off in the winter.
His mother heard his feet hit the floor all the way
from the kitchen. She stopped drying dishes and stood over
the sink with her hands firmly placed on the counter,
holding herself up. She was tired to be sure, but she knew
there was something else aiding to her fatigue.
Sarah was pregnant going into her final month. She
had been busy this holiday season; taking care of herself
and keeping up with Christian. She had pushed herself way
more than she needed to, but that couldn’t have been
helped; a mother has to do what she can, especially when a
father is absent from the household.
It was a hard position to be in at this time of year. It
was only in October when Christian’s father left home to
live in an apartment at his new job in Florida. Sarah didn’t
want to live in Florida; she wanted to be at home. Home,
the place you want to go to at night to sleep, and where all
of your family is and on days like today when you get to
see them or at the very least take comfort in the knowledge
that they are around.
It wasn’t just the move that made Christian’s
parents separate. It was the consistent lack of
communication and not being around each other; the not
knowing what to talk about, or all the business trips that the
father took. They lost the ability to talk to each other and
any emotion that was shown was through a series of noises
and head shakes, or nods. Sarah knew her son was picking
up on the tension and it destroyed her that she couldn’t
make him understand why daddy wasn’t around right now,
or even why an oath to God to stay together in sickness and
in health was so easy to let fall apart.
“MOM,” Christian yelled from the other end of the
house as his footsteps got louder and faster as he ran down
the hallway. Sarah turned around, still holding on to the end
of the sink to keep herself standing.
She started to think it was due to her heart; it has
never been a strong heart. The doctors always told her to
take it as easy as possible. The fact that Christian was born
and Sarah was unharmed was a miracle in of itself. When
the news came that she was going to have another baby was
exciting to her; the chance to prove the doctors wrong one
more time, but it didn’t make the danger lessen any.
Christian ran into the kitchen and slid across the
hardwood floors so he can beat his record from a few
weeks ago where he almost made it to the sliding glass
window that lead to the second floor porch. He had an
intense look on his face that Sarah found hilarious; the
mean eyes and the tongue sticking out was a priceless
moment that she worried she would never get on film or
camera in her lifetime.
The floor was slippery from being mopped the night
before; nice and clean with no filth in sight, the socks were
newer and without the slip resistant foam specs that
Christian usually had on per his mother’s request, she
worries too much.
Christian saw his mother in his peripheral vision
and in spite of her distain for the games he plays where he
runs the risk of hurting himself; he ran and started to slide
across the floor. This is going to be the furthest I’ve gone
yet, I just know it! He was determined and sure of himself.
His tongue appeared from his mouth as he stuck it out
whenever he concentrated on something. The slide was
commencing and it was going to be one for the books, well,
the book inside Christian’s head anyways.
Christian measured and kept track of his progress
by the kitchen table and breaks in the wood. He slid easily
to the beginning of the table, which was the easy part; the
middle of the table is when you know if you will pass it
completely. I did it! Past the middle of the table!
Indeed he did. Oh the sweet smell of victory that he
was feeling. An image popped into his mind as he
continued with both feet on the floor, sliding into what he
thought would be legend, the image of friends from school
and family members applauding his success. There was
Colin, his best friend and his cousins from Indiana. Oh the
glory he was feeling…until a girl he did not recognize was
watching him not applauding. Their eyes met; those eyes
look so familiar. She started to speak to him and as he slid
he watched her mouth the words “watch out”.
The cloud of a daydream dissipated quickly and as
Christian looked forward the glass door was right in front
of him. No one could prepare him for the thud that would
echo through the house or how his face hitting the glass
would sting, but he would find out in a second.
Whack!
That was a term that Christian thought grownups
made up to describe something hitting another object, but it
turned out that it was an actual sound.
Sarah put her hands over her mouth in despair and
Christians face and body slid down the glass like when a
cartoon character runs into a wall, or boulder. As he slid
down the glass the oil from his face and saliva left its mark
on it that Sarah has only just cleaned the day before. Sarah
ran, and hobbled, or, “robbled,” over to Christian as his
body hit the floor. She got on her knees, which she was not
to do, and picked Christian up to cradle him.
“Are you okay kiddo?” she asked rocking him.
Christian remained quiet as she held him.
“Christian,” she continued, “can you tell me you’re
okay?” No response. She worried that he may have given
himself a concussion. “Christian!”
“Can I have some French Toast?” he replied. She
sighed in relief and in anger.
He was fine, just a red mark on the side of his face.
She was mad at herself for being too over protective. It was
the same since he was a child; fall off the couch or bed, run
into walls, slide down the bannister and fall on his rear…he
would just shake it off until he knew someone was
watching, and then he would cry to get something he
wanted.
“I just made Cream of Wheat with chocolate for
you,” Christian’s mother said. She didn’t understand why
Christian would not want the chocolate rice cereal that he
swarmed to consistently; the sugary, chocolaty goodness
that Sarah felt bad for feeding him sometimes.
“I don’t want that,” he insisted, “you always make
that, and you haven’t been making it right lately.” Sarah got
upset. The kind of upset that makes you tear up and want to
yell, but Sarah couldn’t exert her emotions right then. She
wanted to tell him to “be quiet!” and “eat what I make
you!”, but what he said to her about it being “lately” made
her feel guilt about his dad not being around.
“I really think that you sh…”
“I WANT FRENCH TOAST!” Christian yelled.
Sarah looked down at the clean hardwood floor and
laid her hands against it and decided to claim defeat. She
wanted to call her husband and tell him to come home for
the day so Christian would be happy for once.
“Okay,” she claimed. She turned her body and
watched the snowflakes flurry to the right. The porch and
the back yard was caked in snow perfectly, no footprints,
no animal tracks and no sign of the ground. All she wanted
to do is go down the hill near the climbing tree with a sled
like she used to do, when she was healthy. A bird landed on
one of the branches of the tree by the window and the snow
fell, snapping Sarah out of her day dream.
“Could you…,” she said while watching Christian
leave the kitchen and run downstairs to the Christmas tree.
“Help mommy up please?” she whispered to herself
knowing that he was too far away to hear her anyways. She
didn’t take it to heart; kids will be kids, especially on
Christmas Day.
After a few seconds of scooting herself up the side
of the counter, she regained her composure and started
walking to the stairs to climb down. As she went down the
stairs she heard a noise that was all too familiar. It
reminded her of the time she caught Christian tearing the
recipes out of her recipe book that her grandmother gave
her.
The ripping of paper was more apparent as she
descended the second sets of stairs. Wrapping paper flew in
the air as she stared to witness her son, the boy who waited
for his parents to sit down to watch him open his gifts,
destroy the beautiful paper and wrapping like a feral cat.
“Why did you do that,” Sarah asked her son. She
couldn’t look him in the eye, because of the mess he
created.
“What,” he replied with an attitude.
“We always watch you open your gifts from Santa”
“You were taking too long,” he replied.
“That’s not an excuse to be rude and inconsiderate,”
she said with a heightened tone. He stared at her with hate
and so much on his mind. She knew there was going to be a
day it all comes out; she just didn’t want it to be today.
“We only do this once a year and we like to watch
you open the presents,” she continued more calmly.
“What “we”,” Christian asked, “What other people
are here?” He stood up amidst all the holiday wrapping.
“Dad’s not here! Who ya talkin’ about?”
Sarah put her hand on her chest as a defense
mechanism to keep herself from crying. She wasn’t sure
what it was to make her upset, the fact her hormones may
be out of whack or the realization that her son was right and
she had no idea how to justify it.
“Santa gave me some of these gifts too! Mine! They
have my name on them, not yours!”
Sarah, hearing her son for the first time yell at her
was making her upset and in the stream of negative words
coming her way, she decided to move back upstairs to
avoid it all. It was time to acknowledge the fact that her son
was mad, confused, sad, and most of all…he had become a
brat.
The gift that Christian noticed the most was the
recent ‘Morphin’ Mac’ game that released over the holiday
called ‘Morphin’ Mac III: The Mighty’. A videogame was
rare for Christian, at least a brand new one. Sarah never
liked them much as she figured her son could do more with
his spare time, but games helped his reflexes when he was a
kid so who was she to complain. Christian was clumsy,
well, that is an understatement. Sarah always said Christian
could fall down because he stood up the wrong way. As
comical as it was to watch, Sarah and her husband agreed
that it would be best to try something to help his hand/eye
coordination. It worked, but it then turned into an addiction
over time, one that led to Christian only playing it on the
weekends and until he finished the game on the hardest
difficulty level.
Christian tore open the box and placed it in the
game console not paying any mind to the other gifts that
were strewn across the floor. A familiar jingle come
through the television speakers; the ‘Morphin’ Mac’ theme
song was coming on and it gave Christian goose bumps as
any epic music could to a fan of the series. The first level
started and instead of finding the first magic drink that
made his character invincible he heard his mother’s voice
off in the distance.
He placed the oversized controller on the floor and
quietly walked around the paper so that he wouldn’t make a
noise as his resolve to eavesdrop became greater.
“I don’t know,” Sarah said in the distance from
where Christian was lurking. It was a one sided
conversation to be sure and no one has come over to the
house that he knew of. Who is she talking to then?”
Sarah paced back and forth cradling her stomach.
She started to bite her nails during her time on the phone; it
was an awkward conversation to be having on this day of
all days.
“I…don’t…know. I can’t make that any clearer to
you,” she said to the person on the other end of the phone.
“It’s been rough for everyone and I think you
should come by today…No, I don’t think it’s simply a
phase…Can you…can you please…NO! Let me finish.
Can you just be a man and do what’s right? Better yet, can
you play the role of a father who acts like he cares for a
day?”
Christian sat on the landing before the second set of
stairs listening to his mother talk to his father in a way that
he never has before; with hostility. Everything was coming
apart around him and he didn’t know what to do.
“I am the reason this is happening,” Christian
thought, “I can’t do anything right and I am mad all of the
time. I get so mad, but it’s like I am trying to tell them but
instead of talking I do things I wouldn’t normally do. I
know this isn’t me. I am another person now and maybe if I
go away for a while and come back when things are more
normal, that would be best. Just for a while, not long.
Maybe dad will come back if I leave. Yeah! I will leave and
then he will look for me.”
Sarah had her back to the stairs and hallway that
Christian crept down to go to his room where he quietly
closed the door.
“Don’t give me the flimsy excuse of the snow being
too high,” Sarah continued to yell at her husband who was
currently staying in a studio apartment located closer to his
work, “You own a SUV, you can get here in peace, I
believe in you…YES THAT WAS MEANT TO BE
SARCASTIC! I am simply asking you just help me mend
our child’s heart for a few hours and then you can go back
to ignoring me…”
Christian slid down his closed bedroom door as he
listened to his mother’s side of the argument. As his back
felt the wood skimming against him, he looked outside at
the snow that was coming down heavily. Something caught
his eye. He didn’t want to acknowledge what he saw, he
just wanted it to be colors blended with the snow on the
ground, but he knew better. Maybe someone dropped
something out near the road?
Christian stood back up and walked over to the
window near his bed. His movements were slow, like that
girl he saw in a scary movie walking towards a dark room;
you know something scary was going to happen but you
have to make sure for your own piece of mind. The red and
blue stripes were becoming more apparent on the side of
the road. Christian saw this kind of sign before, the sign of
people leaving, the sign of a piece of your life changing as
well as all those involved. It was a realtor sign, indicating
that his house was for sale.
This isn’t fair! I didn’t do anything do deserve this!
This is her fault!
“Why?” Sarah asked her husband on the other end
of the line. Sarah had moved around so much that the
coiled wire from the phone had wrapped her several times
and made it a task just to become unraveled. The stress
from talking to her separated husband and the phone cord
made her yell for the first time in years.
“Why? He’s your son too!”
Christian didn’t understand what that meant. Did
she not want him around? Did dad not want to come? Was
only one of them claiming him? These were questions that
only the adults knew and because of that, a child could
misinterpret what it meant, and Christian did just that.
Bolting out of his room he went to the closet and
pulled down his red, heavy coat from the wire hanger and
slid it on as he continued to walk down the stairs to put on
his black snow boots with superheroes on them.
Sarah saw him bolt down the stairs and proceeded
to hang up the phone in anger and frustration. The phone
cord was a vice holding her in her own little purgatory.
Why do we even have this phone cord or this cord at all?
After about ten seconds of untangling herself, Sarah
decided to simply raise the cord over her head and duck
underneath, but her pregnant belly wouldn’t allow it so
easily. She was worked up and at a high stress level which
is not good for a regular person, much less for a woman
with heart issues and has been told to lay off her feet as
much as possible.
“Where are you going?” she yelled down the stairs
to Christian as he was finishing up putting on his boots.
“Away from you” Christian snapped. Not truly
understanding what she just heard, Sarah had to stop and
process the snide remark her little boy just made.
“What did you just say to me?” Sarah yelled getting
worked up even more.
“You heard me!”
Sarah threw the extremely long telephone cord to
the ground and stomped towards the stairwell, hovering
over it, feeling a little dizzy.
“All you ever do is fight with him! Now he is not
coming today and now you are selling our home because
you can’t figure things out! You are messing up everything
and you don’t even care!”
“It’s more complicated than that! You get back here
right now! Don’t make me come down there after you!”
Christian opened the front door to the eight inches
of snow outside that he would have to trek through and
mess up the perfect white blanket that God created for the
neighborhood.
“You won’t,” he yelled back before he took a step
outside, “that would mean you would have to make an
actual effort!”
Sarah couldn’t help her condition and not being able
to move around in a way that people are accustomed to.
Christian knew this but went and threw it back in her face
anyways, but little did she know that the jab was not aimed
at her physical condition but more her mental one. Taking
the insult at face value, she hobbled down the stairs with no
coat or shoes and ran after Christian.
The snow flew up from Christian’s boots as he ran
from his mother and the house he called home. He had no
idea where he was going to go, but he figured he would just
figure it out along the way.
Sarah’s feet hit the soft snow with only her socks on
to protect them. She glided her legs in the snow with little
effort to pick them up and make progress to get to her son
quickly.
“Come back,” she yelled to her son. Her heart was
thumping hard, harder than it should be. Christian knew his
mother was behind him, trekking through the snow on the
ground and the wind stinging her face, but decided to walk
towards the realtor sign.
It was hard for Sarah to breathe. It was like inhaling
shards of glass to her and trying to catch her son was going
to prove impossible. Christian reached the sign and started
kicking and beating it.
“Is it not enough that you made Dad leave?” he
yelled as he kicked in the sign.
Sarah fell to her knees because her legs could not
take it.
“You yell at him and then you want to leave our
home like it means nothing!”
Bang. The snow fell in front of the sign onto the
ground.
Sarah’s vision was blurry and she felt a pain in her
arm. She clutched it with her other arm and watched
Christian spout of hateful things at the sign and at her; her
son…her only son.
“Oh no,” she muttered before she fell to her side.
Christian, still pounding away his anger and
frustration at the inanimate object was going on a rant
about something that didn’t really have anything to do with
the initial point, stopped when he noticed his mother lying
in the snow.
“Mom?”
She didn’t move from her spot. Christian started
walking towards her in hopes that she would hear him
better
“Mom.”
There was no response from her. He noticed that
she may be shivering and that was some movement at least,
but in spite of his concern he also thought that she may be
playing a game with him to help him calm down.
“Mommy?”
It wasn’t a game. He knelt down beside her a shook
her a bit. He could see the coldness coming out of her nose
and mouth; she was still breathing at least. This was it. The
moment that his mom and dad told him and taught him
about in case this type of emergency even happened, his
chance to be a hero, the need to call 9-1-1.
He shuffled through the snow and told his mom to
hold on and that he would be back in a flash. He ran and
fell up the stairs as he was trying to get to the phone in the
kitchen. As he took the phone off the receiver, pressed the
numbers that would let him talk to someone on the other
end for help. As the line started to ring, he could put the
phone all the way to his mouth because the phone cord got
tangled up. Who has a phone cord? Seriously!
A bored sounding woman on the other end of the
line responded.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“My mom fell over outside and she isn’t getting
up.” The responder’s voice perked up at the sound of a
child on the other end.
“What’s your name?”
“Christian”
“Okay Christian, can you give me your address?”
Christian blanked. Of all the times in the world to
forget his address, this was the worse one. Christian’s eyes
shifted back and forth trying to remember his address.
“Hello,” the dispatcher said in search for a response.
“3266 Red Patch Drive, that’s the address!”
“Can you tell if she is breathing?”
“Yes, she is. I can see her breath outside”
“She is outside?”
“Yeah, she fell in the snow.”
The 9-1-1 responder sighed and said to Christian,
“Okay, you have to take every coat and blanket you have
and put them on top her to keep her warm. Does she have
any medical conditions?”
“Um,” Christian said, “She had heart issues and she
is pregnant.” The phone line in both directions was
completely silent and in that time Christian thought, “She
has a heart condition and she’s pregnant. I am a terrible
boy. I did this. God help me.”
The ambulance came and rushed to her aid with a
gurney being pushed through the snow that had
accumulated over his legs by the time they had arrived.
Christian watched as the men tried to position his mother to
be able to pick her up onto the gurney, but she yelped every
time they touched her. With every faint cry and loud
squeal, Christian jumped back a little more. As much as he
wanted this to end, it didn’t seem like it was going to.
The paramedics placed her on the gurney after
several minutes of fighting her pain and motioned Christian
to come with them into the back of the ambulance where he
would watch his mommy writhe in pain and all he would
do is think to himself how it would be “all his fault”.
The trip to the ambulance was long and surreal. It
had never occurred to Christian that his poor decisions
would lead to someone getting hurt, even worse…his mom.
Christian didn’t cry as his mother stopped writhing in pain.
He wasn’t concerned what his dad would say or how he
would explain why Sarah was in the cold chasing him in
the first place. Christian just didn’t want to be around at all
and just wanted to go to sleep and pretend that this awful
Christmas day would just be over.
The ambulance came to a stop and the men pulled
her out of the truck slowly and guided her to the
emergency. Christian followed them and overheard them
talking about putting his mom in some called the I.C.U.
“What is that?” he asked himself, “If everything
was okay they would have just put her in a regular
room…right?”
Christian didn’t bother to ask what it meant.
Nobody ever listened to what he thought or paid any
attention to his questions; he was just a kid after all and no
one takes a kid seriously unless they are crying about
something. That was the way Christian saw it anyways;
grown-ups are always so concerned with their own
problems that they don’t see how anyone else feels about
things.
They placed Sarah on a bed with tubes going into
her throat and arms, machines that beeped a lot and liquids
going into her body without her even knowing what is
going on and all Christian could do is sit on the
uncomfortable couch and watch as the snow fell. The stars
were the only thing visible to Christian as they were now
on the fourth floor of the hospital. Christian, as much as he
told himself how stupid it was, wished upon a star in hopes
that there was some good left in life and that it is not all for
nothing. Christian put his knees on the light blue couch
cushions and looked up to the stars, particularly the North
Star.
“I don’t know if this is going to do any good or not,
but if there is something…real…that all these people
believe in then I think this is the time I need to see or know
something that will help me get through this. I am not
going to ask for my mom’s health because that might go
against your plans and all, and it may come off selfish and I
don’t want that seeing how I have been selfish for a while
now. I…sniff…I just need to know that it’s not all for
nothing and that there is a purpose for this…for things.”
Christian prayed.
“I need to believe that there is more than just this
and not the sadness I see or feel.”
Christian climbed down off the couch as it pleather
made a loud sound. He stopped in his place to see if the
sound woke his mom up. It didn’t.
Beep…beep. Christian watched as the green line on
the screen bounced every few seconds and what that meant
for her heart. He took off his winter coat and gloves and
climbed to the foot of the bed. Christian curled up next to
her feet. She always complained that her feet were always
cold no matter how warm it was. He pulled up the sheet to
check her feet. They had the socks she came in with.
This was not good enough.
He sat up and took off his shoes. The dirt and
wetness from the bottom of his boots got all over his hands
and they slipped from them hitting the linoleum floor that
was in need of a good waxing. From his angle, her tummy
was taller than her feet. I bet your going to be a chunky
one…at least I hope you will be and hope you will be okay.
Christian pulled his socks off and proceeded to put
them on his mom’s feet, but they were so small compared
to hers. They went over the top of her feet tightly, but the
socks soon started rising up as they were just too small to
stay on. Christian watched as his grand gesture to help his
mother fell off of her and onto the bed. He stared at his
socks and dark spots on them where his heel and toes went
and all he could think was, “There is nothing I can do for
her.”
He collapsed back around her feet and listened as
the “beeps” from the monitor grew further and further
apart. He fell asleep on his mother’s feet with the hopes
that when he woke up everything would be ok. As he
drifted to sleep the beeps got even further apart but
Christian was too tired to get up and see if everything
would be all right. In his mind, he had faith that it would
be, but he knew what the beeps meant, and in his
heart…didn’t think it would be.
Dreaming With an Angel?
Christian woke up outside with his pajamas on.
Light snow covered him and melted on his bare skin which
gave him the tingling sensation to open his eyes. He sat up
and dusted the light snow off of him and watched as his
breath hit the cold air, only, he wasn’t cold. By all accounts
he should be; he should be ‘freezing his nosey off’; that’s
what his mother told him when he wanted to go outside.
“You better get your long johns on and hat, I don’t
want you to freeze that cute little nosey off!”
It was so embarrassing, but that was Sarah, a mom
who would have done what it took to keep her little guy
safe, and knowing this made Christian sad as he didn’t do
what it took to protect his mother from bad things.
He sat up and watched the snow falling from the
sky where the stars were at their brightest and the sky was
dark. It was night time and there was nothing but a
neighborhood street that led into a cul-de-sac. Christian,
confused on why his feet were not icy yet, walked down the
street and looked at the homes and decorations.
The first house on the left has colored lights around
the gutters and the bushes outside. The candle like lighting
decoration that went up both sides of the driveway led
friends and family to a happy home for the holidays.
Christian enjoyed the colored lights on houses and trees; it
was what his mom also put up. His dad never cared for the
colored ones; seemed too immature for the holidays he
thought, but in his dad’s defense, Christian started to
appreciate the white lights on the trees more and more, and
when he looked to his right a little ways up the road, he
found that he may be actually like white lights instead.
The modern looking home has lights around the
windows and the roof of the house. The white lights were
in the form of those that looked like icicles. And bushes in
front of the yard were encased in lights, but just the regular
ones.
Each house he passed seemed to get better and
better with their decorations and as the show fell in front of
Christian’s face, every house he looked in was a family
having dinner or opening gifts together.
The first house with the colored lights had a family
with their baby that loved to rip apart the wrapping and was
not as concerned with the new toy it got. That didn’t
matter; the mother and father had no problem laughing at
their child having fun.
Music started to fill the air. A holiday tune played
but Christian didn’t know if it was in his head or if
everyone else could hear it as well. It was an instrumental
tune that he remembered hearing on a cartoon special that
he watched every year. The piano was pleasing to him and
set the mood for what was surrounding him.
Every house he looked into as he walked down the
street had a family but the child got older each time and as
the child grew old so did the parents. Soon Christian
realized that the first house was his but just angled different
on this street than he was used to. The houses after that
changed. Sometimes the house would have the family and
child, and then the next would have the mother and child,
and then one with the father and child. As Christian was
close to end of the street, the mother was the same but a
different man was in the picture as she got older.
When Christian reached the end, there were two
houses; the left house was old and ugly with a man inside
crying to himself with a small silver Christmas tree on an
end table, while the other house had the same man but this
time there was a lady and two children hanging on him,
playing.
Christian felt bad for the man in the left house; no
one to be with him on Christmas.
As Christian looked between the two houses, a dark
silhouette started to emerge from the shadows. He thought
this dream was going to turn into a nightmare very fast
based on how the entity was moving; very staggered.
He thought it was him; another version at least
coming towards him. The being had no shoes on, taking its
time to get to where Christian was standing. He put his
hands forward to help the person but as he lunged forward,
his fingers smashed into something that felt like glass.
Christian was unable to move past that point as the two
houses and the person in-between them would be
impossible to get to as an invisible wall was placed
between them. Looking around, Christian would have
thought the lights would reflect off this barrier, like
glass…but it didn’t and Christian became even more
confused than he was before.
“It’s okay,” the person said, “it’s meant to be there.”
Christian looked back at the person walking
towards him, with the same size body and the same shaped
face, and the eyes Christian saw every day in the mirror;
only this was a girl.
“No matter how times I have felt it, something
about snow on my feet makes me all disoriented and stuff,”
she exclaimed. Christian watched as she put her hands
against the glass.
“It’s for your own good,” she said.
“Why?’
“Something about worlds imploding or something if
we happened to touch one another,” she explained. “Or that
may have been something I saw in a movie, can’t be sure, a
lot of things that blur together from up there and this
world.”
Christian scowled at that tern, ‘up there’. “Are you
saying that you’re from Heaven?”
She brushed the snow from her nightgown that she
was wearing and from her legs. “Listen chief, I’m not sure
what to call it but it’s a pretty cool place. If you call it
Heaven here, then He’ll hold true to it there.”
“Where are your wings? What about your halo?”
Christian asked.
The girl stood up straight and looked at Christian. It
was the first time he saw what she really looked like. It was
almost uncanny how their features matched up.
“Why do you look like me?”
“I just have one of those faces,” she replied. She put
her hands beneath her chin and said, fluttering her eyes,
“Don’t I look like a perfect, pretty angel to you?”
Christian thought she was going to gag in her
vanity.
“Oh relax, I was just kidding,” she said.
Christian watched as she paced back and forth. She
wasn’t completely wrong about herself; she was kind of
pretty…in a little sister or relative kind of way.
“You still didn’t answer the question!”
She turned around and told Christian, “Look chief, I
don’t have wings or a halo yet because I am not ‘
technically’ an angel.” Christian squint his eyes and twisted
his mouth in disbelief of anything that was going on. This
was by far the strangest dream he had ever had. I just want
to wake up, that’s all.
“Not going to happen at the moment, chief,” she
said sneaking up next to him, “at least not right now.” How
did she know what I was thinking?
“My name is Sol, and I already know who you are,
Christian,” she exclaimed.
“Soul?”
“No, Sol, no ‘u’ in the name,” she explained, “It’s
what my friends call me. Do you like it? I made it up
myself.”
Christian sat down in the snow and leaned up
against the invisible field, separating them. When he heard
her name, Christian began to feel bad.
“Didn’t your mom give you a name?”
Sol slid down the barrier on her side and sat next to
Christian. “No,” she said softly, “I didn’t really know my
mom the way that I would have liked, but I think she would
have liked the name.” Christian glanced at her sadness then
looked down the street and watched the snow fall onto the
footprints he had left.
“My mom named me,” he told Sol.
“You’re lucky,” she replied, “There are a lot of kids
out there that don’t know their parents.”
Christian looked around at Sol and she looked back
at him and gave a look of concern. It’s not fair!
“Doesn’t it make you angry?”
“What?” she asked.
“All this sadness and pain,” Christian exclaimed,
“All this loneliness and the questioning of life and thinking
that it’s your entire fault, even if it really isn’t! What’s the
point?”
Sol glared at Christian whose eyes were glazed over
in tears ready to pour out. “That’s the hand that some of us
get dealt chief, and only He really has a reason behind it.”
Christian glared back at Sol with eyes that had went
from sadness to anger. “That’s the biggest cop out I have
ever heard,” he said, “Whenever there is something
someone can’t explain they go to the “God only knows”
excuse!” Christian stopped to wipe his nose on his sleeve.
“If He is so great then why let bad things happen in
the first place, especially those that are not at fault. Maybe I
need to find a different God!”
“Don’t say that,” Sol cried out, “He is a jealous
God.”
“Jealous? Seems like a petty emotion for a God,
don’t ya think?”
Sol put her finger to her mouth in deep
concentration. After a few seconds and some profound
thought, she had found her reply.
“If we were made of in His image, wouldn’t it make
sense that He would get jealous as well?”
Christian wiped the saline from his eyes and opened
his mouth expecting a response to contradict Sol, but it
didn’t come out. Sol bounced onto her feet and playfully
pointed to Christian and paraded around saying, “Someone
call the burn ward, because you…just got…aaaahhhh
burned!”
Sol wanted to parade around some more but
realized that this entire thing was not about her, it was
about Christian. She silently sat down beside him again and
told him she was sorry and “I shouldn’t have pranced
around like that, it wasn’t very mature of me.”
“It’s okay,” he said, “You’re allowed one.” He then
smiled at her and even though he was proven somewhat
wrong, it was good to see another individual having fun.
“You worried about your mother?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
In Christian’s mind he should be cold, but he
wasn’t. He put his knees towards his chin and hugged them
just out of habit. Sol looked around trying to figure out
what to say in order to break the awkward silence. It turned
out that she didn’t need to.
“Parents are so dumb,” Christian blurted out. Sol
stared at him, wanting him to elaborate. Christian wasn’t
going to, but some kind of force inside or him, maybe
outside, told him to continue. “This whole thing wouldn’t
have happened if my dumb dad would have just stayed at
home instead of leaving.”
“Where did he go?”
“Somewhere outside the city,” he replied, “Some
‘hole-in-the-wall’, that’s what my mom says anyways. It’s
just some small apartment.”
“Why did he go?”
“I’m not sure. I think it all came down to him
working too much and mom needed help raising me and
my sister. Then again, she is such a chore anyways. Dad
probably just got tired of her dumb stuff.”
Sol grimaced and looked leered at Christian. “You
mean your unborn sister?”
Christian cut his eyes at her and asked, “How did
you know that?”
The area grew dark. The snow stopped and the
lights in the houses grew dimmer. Sol’s eyes grew big and
white, like the snow that surrounded them.
“We did our homework on you Christian!” She rose
to her feet and placed her hands against the invisible
barrier. As his side of the barrier grew dark, Sol’s side
started to change.
The two houses started to merge together into one
and the yard grew in length. Christian watched as the
scenery behind Sol started to take the shape of his house
and lawn.
“Watch…watch what you were too selfish to see!”
Sol yelled.
The house started to break apart. A crack started at
the bottom and then worked its way up the side, across the
roof and back down again. The split level home broke in
half and the side nearest Christian started to open up, like a
doll house. Christian watched as the previous day events
were acted out by…him and his mother, Sarah. It was like
someone took a gigantic lens on a camera and captured
every piece of footage in one long take.
He saw everything in every perspective; when he
went downstairs and tore through the presents and the
reaction his mom had, the breakfast debacle and how his
mother was in pain even though she tried to hide it from
him, and the conniption fit he had storming out of the house
and his mother wobbling down the stairs to catch him
which led to her going to the hospital. He knew that he was
being a little horror, but he still felt that he was right to be
mad at his parents for splitting up. Then it happened again,
the whole day replayed in front of him again.
Christian tried to turn his head but some force was
keeping it glaring at the house with versions of him and his
mother performing the same song and dance that was his
horrendous Christmas Day. Sol threw attention to Christian
when she realized how uncomfortable he was from not
being unable to move.
“Please stop this,” Christian pleaded, “I’ll do
better!”
Sol replied, “I’m not doing this chief, I am just the
guide.”
She looked behind Christian and noticed the street
was falling into the Earth. Concrete was crumbling and the
houses down the streets were breaking apart. The families
in the houses saw nothing of what was coming and
continued their routine that Christian saw earlier; like they
were on a continuous loop.
“You better make a decision,” Sol yelled. Right
then, Christian’s house broke apart and morphed back into
two separate houses with one man hugging his family that
could be seen from outside and the other with the old
lonely man eating a TV dinner, alone.
“What decision?”
“You have to choose a house.”
“Why?”
The ground started to give out right behind them
while lamp posts and mailboxes tipped over.
“What kind of life do you want? Do you want a
happy life or a lonely one where you have no family?” Sol
was calm while Christian started to float off the ground.
“What kind of question is that?”
“So you want a good life?”
“Of course!” he yelled.
Crumble-crumble
Sol watched as he floated upward.
“You have to stop being this way; you have to let
things go where they will…you can’t stop what is meant to
be!” Sol yelled upwards.
“It’s not my fault they are unhappy! Why should I
have to live with their mistakes?”
“Because that’s what life is…living with your
mistakes…to learn from them and from others. You can
have a great life with a great family of your own and your
mother will be around! It doesn’t have to be bad! Stop
making it that way!”
Crumble-crumble
The two houses tore apart with both versions of
Christian’s future falling in with it. The snow stopped and
the only piece of concrete left was the piece Sol was
standing on.
“It’s not fair! It won’t be the same!”
“Make your choice! Make the right one! Have the
mother I never knew!” Sol shouted.
Christian looked down and realized his mistake
through whatever Sol’s life was or could have been; he felt
sorry for her.
“Help us,” Sol cried, “PLEASE!”
The ground under her gave way and she started to
fall into the abyss, the blackness that will engulf both of
them.
“I WANT A LIFE OF MY OWN THAT I CAN BE
PROUD OF!”
2
“Is that it,” Christian asked.
He and Sol were both kneeling in front of one
another. There was nothing but clouds around them; pink,
purple, and orange. It swayed around them in a circle, like
cotton candy.
“Yeah,” she said, looking at Christian, the boy who
looked like her in way with the same kind of eyes.
“What now?”
“I’m not sure,” she retorted, “I guess you will have
to see.”
“What if nothing changes? What if my mom dies?”
“Then that’s the way it will have to be.”
“It will be different and lonely,” Christian said in
sadness.
Solstice put her hand on his shoulder and Christian
jumped in fear of something bad may happen. Sol chuckled
and consoling said, “It’s okay, there are no rules here.”
Sol put her arms back in her lap. Christian wiped
away his tears and looked away embarrassed.
“Just because it may be different, doesn’t mean it
will be bad; it just means that’s its different. That’s all.”
Christian nodded. He knew that she was right but
was having a hard time believing it at that moment in time.
“You will never be alone, and even if you think you
are, just look in the mirror and look into our eyes,” she
insisted.
Sol stood up and Christian followed her lead. Sol
put her hands on his.
“They’re almost the same size!” he thought.
Christian let go of Sol’s hands and looked at her
with a harsh demeanor that Sol hadn’t seen yet. He twisted
his mouth and asked, “Are you really a kid or do you just
look like that because I can relate to you better?”
Sol smiled and was proud of his insightfulness.
“It is whatever you want to believe…and just please
make sure you believe in something in life, and I hope you
are happy with whatever it is you decide.”
A white light started to surround the both of them.
Sol’s image started to dissipate and Christian tried to grab
on to her. He was scared for what was going to happen
next.
Christmas Day, Again
“Sometimes the angels we need are the ones that
are right in front of us the whole time,” Sol’s voice said.
This time the whisper was very distinctive and for once
Christian understood what it meant. Patches of light came
through in the darkness and the still sound of winter air;
there was something about the air inside a home during the
air. When it’s quiet, it was like you could hear the
nothingness.
Christian’s eyes opened suddenly. He didn’t move
his eyes. He just laid in his bed a stared at the ceiling,
wondering how he got home, but more than that, he just
enjoyed the silence. He could hear the snowflakes hitting
his window. Did my dad bring me home? Confused and
scared to find out what had happened to his mother,
Christian refused to move.
Thunk-thunk
The heater kicked on, startling Christian enough for
him to shift in his bed. He sat up and looked around his
room noticing that everything was still where it was when
he woke up yesterday.
“Christian!” a woman yelled from down the hall.
This voice was all too familiar to him. He swung his legs
over the bed onto the cold floor and before he got too
excited, he thought it may have been his grandmother; her
and his mom sound a lot alike. He slipped on his socks and
ran down the hallway. When he came to the kitchen, he
saw a figure that he could not mistake, never, not in his life.
He knew her face so well that he could draw it without
having to look at her. It was his mother, and she didn’t look
sick anymore.
Instead of running and gliding on the kitchen floor,
the game he usually played with himself, he just walked
over to his mother and hugged her gently so he wouldn’t
hurt her.
“Are you okay,” he asked her. Concerned, Sarah
looked down and him and ran her fingers though his hair
and said, “I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”
Christian refrained from responding because
something felt off. This whole scene seemed all too
familiar to Christian, like it happened before, a weird sense
of Deja-vu.
“You slept in big boy,” she continued, “usually you
are up and wanting to open the presents.”
Presents?
“I opened the present’s yesterday mom, don’t you
remember?” he asked.
Sarah’s eyes were big and were full of anger. “You
better not have gotten into those presents mister!”
Sarah slowly walked down the stairs and Christian
followed, curious to know what was going on. As they both
descended the staircase, the Christmas tree with the white
lights on it was a vision. Christian found a new respect for
white lights as if something changed in him.
“Whew! That is a relief,” Sarah exclaimed, “You
must have had a dream about opening presents.”
Christian stared at the tree and the presents that
were neatly organized underneath; something he didn’t
realize before. His mother went out of her way to make it
look special, like in a catalogue. She didn’t have to. She
could have easily just thrown them under the tree, but she
thought it mattered.
“Come on,” she insisted as she hobbled back up the
stairs, “We’ll open them after we eat of Cream of Wheat.”
Christian rolled his eyes at the thought of eating it. She
hasn’t been making it right for a while now. He wasn’t
going to say it though, even though something sounded
better. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like so we
don’t hurt a person’s feelings. To Christian’s surprise, the
breakfast was actually very good. For the first time in a
long time, he was happy to eat this for breakfast.
While he ate, he thought about how this was all
possible. How could he start Christmas Day over again?
However, it was done…it was a miracle to be sure.
Then another thought occurred to him, “Those are
probably all the same presents I already opened before.”
This was going to hard; acting surprised when he already
knew what he was getting and before he knew it he was
done with his breakfast and soon it would be show time.
The walk back downstairs was long. Christian had
to mentally prepare himself for the performance of the year
presented by him. He sat down and chose a present as his
mother sat on the couch with her camera, waiting to point
and click, the flash going off and it would blind him for a
moment and it happened. It happened several times.
The wrapping paper flew and the smiles were had,
but not because he was acting like he never knew what was
coming, but rather because his mother was having a ball
watching him. His performance in that last hour could have
gotten him some sort of award. Christian felt bad because
he was sort of lying in a way, but he also thought it would
be worse if he just shouted out what was in the packages
and gotten his mother frightened or upset. It was for the
best.
Christian started to play his videogame so his
mother could rest. Sarah slowly made her way up the stairs
and smiled the whole time, masking the pain she was
feeling.
Sarah made her way to the living room upstairs and
sat on the couch. She put her hands in front of her face and
started to cry. She wanted nothing more than for her
husband to come home today; if not for her, then for
Christian at the very least. As much as she attempted to
muffle the noise, Christian was listening to her from
downstairs; noises carried throughout the house well,
especially there was hardly anyone in it.
Christian ‘paused’ his game and walked over to the
phone. He debated with himself on whether or not to do it;
to call his father. He wasn’t pleased with his father at this
point in time, but he probably wouldn’t be regardless for a
while. The fact of the matter was that it wasn’t about
Christian, it was about his mother and what was right.
Christian picked up the receiver and dialed the long
distance number to reach his dad on his company cell
phone.
The phone rang on the other end as Christian looked
outside at the snow.
“Hello?”
“Hey dad, it’s me.”
“What’d up bud? I was just getting ready to call
you. Did you like the gifts you got?”
“Yeah, they were fine. Listen. You need to come
home.”
“What…why? I don’t think I will be able to…”
“You need to come home. Don’t come up with
excuses and come home.”
“I know you want to see me, but…”
“This isn’t about me. It’s not about you either. Mom
is in bad shape and you need to come home.”
(Silence)
“Dad?”
“Ok. I’ll try to get out today.”
“Bye dad.”
Click.
That was it. That is all he had to do.
Christian wasn’t sure what getting his dad back
home was going to achieve in the long run, but at the very
least it gave them an opportunity to maybe deal with the
issues instead of just ignoring it. He sat back down in front
of the television and stared at the screen. The crying noises
stopped and Christian got an idea.
He popped up and reached into the cabinet for a
board game that was doing nothing but collect dust. This
game was Christian’s and his mother’s favorite to play
together. He brought it up the stairs and found his mother
on the couch, watching the snow fall outside. He put the
game down in front of her and then looked out the window
and saw the snow had covered everything. He looked at
the houses around and saw people celebrating in their own
ways. Smoke coming from the chimneys, kids trying out
their new sleds, snowball fights occurring; and as much as
Christian wanted to go outside, there was something else
that was more important right then.
“You can go outside if you want,” Sarah told her
son.
Christian thought about it for a moment like any
child would, but he wasn’t the same kid he was
yesterday…or today…or today being yesterday…oh you
get it.
“No,” he replied, “I think I will just hang out with
you today.”
Sarah smiled and sort of laughed. “I’m not going
anywhere soon,” she said, “Go be with kids your own age.”
She was probably right, she wasn’t going anywhere, but
she could and Christian knew that now.
“It’s okay,” he said firmly, “I want to play this
instead.”
He opened up the box and set up the pieces and the
cards, fished for the dice and they played for hours and
while they played they talked about things. Family, movies,
and deep thoughts about life that only they understood; it
was that special bond between a mother and her son that no
one talks about that much, but they know deep down.
From outside, a young girl watched Christian from
outside as if she could see through walls. The other kids
didn’t acknowledge her, like she was invisible to everyone;
everyone except Christian who looked outside the window
for a brief moment and saw her gaze. He slightly waved his
hand at her and she smiled and waved back.
At that point, Christian’s dad pulled up to the
driveway in a rented car he got from the airport and Sol
watched him go inside and how Christian and Sarah ran
down to see him.
A voice started to speak to Sol.
“Do you think that everything will be okay?”
Sol didn’t look up or around, she just simply
answered, “I don’t know. Not everything will be perfect,
but it’s up to him to figure out how to work around the bad
things that can happen. It’s not all about how you take it,
it’s about how you deal with it and move on. There will
always be hard parts to deal with but there are the good
parts to embrace and make the most you can of it.”
Sol sighed and turned around to walk away. As she
disappeared into the snow she continued, “But that’s life
though…isn’t it?”
The End
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